Chapter 10 #2
Amber eyes of his black wolfskin aglow in the firelight, Kveld crouched over the small flames he’d enclosed within a circle of smooth stones upon the rocky beach.
Spread upon a swathe of white linen, his bone needles were meticulously placed beside the pot of soot and seal oil with which he would ink images into their skin.
Sigurd led Brynhildr across the rocky sand and stopped before the wolfskin-clad vitki.
Lupine eyes as amber as the black wolf’s atop his dark head, Kveld gazed up at Sigurd.
A violent shiver rippled through Brynhildr’s shaking limbs.
“You marked me as a wolf when I swore my oath,” Sigurd said to the dark Nightwolf. “Now I ask for the mark of a falcon—the sigil of my soulbound mate.” He raised Brynhildr’s hand to his blond bearded lips and pressed a fervent kiss upon her cold fingers. Hunger blazed across his feral face.
Kveld nodded in solemn silence and motioned for Sigurd to sit upon a stone. Dipping his needle in the dark ink and piercing the skin with precise punctures, he embedded a falcon in flight on the inside of Sigurd’s shield arm.
“By this mark, your spirit shall take wing with hers,” Kveld murmured, his deep voice rough like wind over waves.
As the falcon emerged on Sigurd’s forearm, the ouroboros burned above Brynhildr’s wildly fluttering heart.
When he’d finished, Kveld fixed his glowing amber gaze upon Brynhildr. “And now, I mark you.”
Sigurd rose from the stone where he’d been seated and lowered himself onto the rocky beach next to Brynhildr’s booted feet.
Kveld gestured to the empty stone seat. “I shall engrave the same falcon, but inside your sword arm— where Sigurd bears his identity as a Sea Wolf.”
With painstaking precision, the Nightwolf embedded a falcon in flight inside Brynhildr’s right arm.
The sting of soot and needle drew a sharp hiss from her lips, but the scent of the sea was sweet and bracing.
Each puncture of her skin enflamed the ouroboros, which burned like the fire in her forearm.
Once he’d completed her falcon sigil, he drew Sigurd’s wolf on the inside of her shield arm.
Kveld’s deep, haunting voice echoed from the Otherworld. “Now I shall mark you with Sigurd’s sigil. That your spirit may run with his wolf.”
Sigurd reassuringly stroked his thumb over her skin as he held her right hand while Kveld inked her left forearm with the wolf sigil.
Now we each have a trio of marks which bind us. Dragon, Falcon, and Wolf.
Kveld applied a pungent herbal ointment over the tattoos on her two forearms and the falcon he’d just inked upon Sigurd’s.
“Birch resin and beeswax, to soothe the skin and seal the mark.” He wiped his needles, wrapped them in leather, and secured them in the belt at his waist. After sealing the mixture of soot and seal oil, he rose and motioned to úlfalkr.
“Now, a bindrune to join you both to the ship. Come…follow me aboard.”
The pebbled shore glistened under the silver light of the full moon, waves whispering against the dark hull of úlfalkr, whose falcon prow gleamed golden in the starlight.
Sigurd and Brynhildr knelt beside Kveld, crouched on the deck of the ship.
In his scarred, tattooed hand, the Nightwolf held the wolf bone stylus, sharpened and curved to a precise point.
“Raido, for the sea journey you will take in this fateful ship.” Kveld chiseled the first rune beneath the falcon prow. Sparks rose as the ivory bone scraped the solid oak.
“Gebo, the gift of self you give each other, your fates eternally entwined.” The sharp scrapes of the stylus sent shivers up Brynhildr’s shaking legs as he carved the second rune over the first. “And Kaun, rune of fire. For the ouroboros which binds your souls through seier.” As the Nightwolf carved the final rune, the wood glimmered, like dragonfire imbued into the grain.
Kveld straightened, wiping the stylus and securing it in leather at his belt. “A trio of runes… a bindrune—triply binding your souls, the ship, and the sea.”
As the wolf and falcon tattoos on Brunhildr’s forearms burned like the ouroboros above her breast, Sigurd took hold of her cold hand and lifted it to warm, bearded lips. When he kissed her icy fingers, a wave of seier washed over her, like the sea flooding the starlit fjord.
Kveld’s deep hallowed voice wafted on a whisper of wind. “Pierce your thumbs,” he commanded, unsheathing the ornate wolf dagger strapped at his waist and handing it solemnly to Sigurd. “One drop each—alternating turns—as your blood falls onto each rune. Sea Wolf first, then Sun Falcon.”
The oval moonstone embedded in the bone hilt glowed in the moonlight as Sigurd accepted the dagger and pricked his thumb with the sharp tip. He let a bead of blood fall onto the Raido rune, passing the dagger to Brynhildr.
She nicked the tip of her left thumb and let a droplet fall onto Sigurd’s in the same rune.
They moved together to Gebo, Sigurd’s blood first, then hers.
Finally, Kaun, alternating again, as the last drops soaked into the etched grain beneath the falcon prow.
The bindrune glowed with otherworldly light, their bound essence alive with entwined wyrd.
Kveld chanted softly under his breath. Long, scarred fingers fluttered over the bindrune like wings beating wildly in Brynhild’s falcon heart. His chant complete, the Nightwolf nodded, then gestured to a swathe of linen spread upon the starlit shore.
Long legs like a lanky wolf, the tall Kveld leapt deftly onto the beach, leading them toward the white cloth and a silver chalice standing on a hearthstone beside the ritual fire. Amber gems set along the rune-etched rim glittered like golden suns in the moonlight.
Brynhildr lifted the hem of her blue silk gown to prevent it from falling into the fjord while Sigurd placed strong hands around her waist. As she jumped from the deck, he guided her safely onto the rocky sand.
When they arrived at the linen cloth, Kveld explained the choice of items as he slipped each one into the silver chalice of golden mead.
“A wild rose taken from Brynhildr’s private courtyard…
a wolf claw to symbolize Sigurd Sea Wolf…
and a falcon feather for the Sun Falcon Shieldmaiden.
Three sacred items to bind you to the sea. ”
Once again, he unsheathed the dagger and handed it, this time to Brynhildr. “Three drops of blood into the mead. Sun Falcon first, then the Sea Wolf.”
Heart pounding, ouroboros burning, falcon and wolf tattoos searing her skin, Brynhildr nicked her other thumb and let three droplets of blood fall into the golden mead.
As the copper tang of iron blended with the sweet honeyed scent, she handed the wolf dagger to Sigurd.
He pierced his thumb with the pointed tip, added three drops of his blood to hers, and wiped the dagger clean before returning it to the Nightwolf.
Kveld flicked long fingers over the chalice, humming a haunting melodic chant. When he finished, he handed the golden mead to Sigurd. “Both drink from the same goblet. Seal your souls to each other, this shore… and the sea.”
Sigurd held the silver goblet, his bloodied thumbs touching the glowing amber gems.
Brynhildr placed her hands over his, the blood in her thumbs blending with Sigurd’s.
Together, they raised the chalice to their lips, eyes locked upon each other, and drank.
Beneath the bodice of her blue silk gown, the ouroboros blazed above her thumping heart. And upon each tattooed forearm, the wolf and falcon scorched her skin.
Three tattoos… three droplets of blood… three sacred items… binding us to each other, the úlfalkr ship, and the sea.
As the shared mead and blood spread warmth and seier through her icy veins, Kveld’s deep, prophetic voice echoed across the fjord.
“The Sea Wolf and the Sun Falcon shall defy all for each other… the úlfalkr ship shall bear them to safety across the sea. With bindrune, blood, and breath, their souls are now bound beyond the realm of fate… and beyond the reach of the gods.” Black wolfskin cloak gleaming in the moonlight, Kveld Nightwolf took the silver chalice and poured the remaining mead into the flickering flames within the stone enclosed hearth.
“Now it is done,” he murmured softly, amber eyes aglow like the black wolf’s upon his dark head.
“Go…and seal your love in seier and starlight.”
As moonlight glimmered on the dark fjord, and stars winked in the night sky, Brynhildr grasped Sigurd’s calloused hand and led him up the stone stairs carved into the cliff, past the thorned vines where wild roses emitted a soft floral scent that mingled with the salt of the sea.
They slipped into the hidden stairwell at the base of the tower and emerged into her private chambers.
While Sigurd stoked the banked embers and added a log to the fire, Brynhildr opened the doors onto the balcony, letting moonglow and starlight flood the vast, circular room.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, as he coaxed the fire into flames. “I’ll fetch the silver chalice from the seier chamber.” Slipping down the wooden stairs which led to the floor below, she retrieved the same silver chalice with which she and Yrsa had summoned Freyja.
And Sigurd and Agnar had sworn their blood oath of brotherhood.
Tonight, Sigurd and I shall also swear a blood oath. Binding our love beyond fate and the gods. And tomorrow, on the summer solstice…we shall face each other in the final duel.
As the ouroboros flared above her heart, she poured mead from Yrsa’s small wooden cask into the silver goblet, clutched the gem-encrusted chalice against her burning breast, and slipped back up the stairs to Sigurd.
He had shed his Blárúlfr wolfskin cloak, blue tunic, leather boots, and black breeches, standing gloriously naked in the moonlight. In the corner of her chamber near the wooden trunk, his sheathed úlfblóer sword stood like a solemn, silent witness.